


Antiochus

by thephilosophersapprentice



Series: as if these names could take our sins [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, Ishval Civil War, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roy has nightmares about fire, it's not pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 05:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice
Summary: Guilt has defined and driven Roy Mustang for so long, he's not sure he remembers who he was before. The Elric Brothers tell Team Mustang about their Ishvalan heritage.





	Antiochus

The boy was watching him again. Roy didn’t have to look to know he was there.

That same child had followed him for months. Roy wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Somehow the strange sunset-gold eyes disconcerted the State Alchemist. He knew his orders. This area had to be cleared, even if the child was only half Isvhalan.

Yet somehow, Roy still hesitated.

He had no choice. He turned.

The strange child was guiding a line of other children quickly into the hills. Sun glinted off gold hair—faded slightly on top, brighter underneath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Mustang said, his mouth dry, voice hollow.

“They deserve to live,” the boy said, looking Roy in the eyes.

He couldn’t move, rooted to the ground. His arm moved as if on its own. The boy didn’t even try to run. Mustang’s fingers pressed together.

“Edward—”

The whole world burned. The smell of burning flesh and hair mixed with the scent of cotton and Roy’s own soap. Even in his own bedroom Roy could still see the charred remnants of a life already harsh enough and blood soaking into the endless sands.

As if the memories were not bad enough already, Edward had been there every night for the past week, watching, judging—and dying in countless horrible ways. And the real Edward, who seemed to be an open book, was impossible to read.

_At first I thought you must be evil… then I thought you were kind of an idiot. Now… I don’t know what to think._

Even at his most honest, Edward still never put the whole truth into words.

_I don’t know what to think either, kid._

Roy didn’t even know if he was more worried about Edward thought or simply just sickened at himself. He knew he had to ask—his own haphazard emotions could not be allowed to eclipse what Edward was going through. Roy deserved the Kimblee at the back of his mind laughing at him and reminding him what he’d done; Edward had done nothing wrong.

He couldn’t put it off forever. Roy stood and began to get ready for the day.

* * *

 

It was painful how normal the office seemed. Fuery, Breda and Havoc had given up even the pretense of working, Hawkeye was smiling, and Falman watched out of the corner of his eye, lips twitching from time to time. Edward was leaning against Hawkeye’s desk, recounting the story of an alchemist who had somehow transmuted his workspace upside down to great hilarity and occasional noises of outrage or corrections from Alphonse.

As Mustang came in, Edward broke off in the middle of a sentence and pushed himself away from Hawkeye’s desk, clasping his hands behind his back. It would almost be funny, if Edward’s expression wasn’t so suddenly serious.

“The Colonel knows already, so it’s time we told you all as well, but we’d prefer it if this stayed between us,” Edward said. His tone was quiet but carried—Mustang felt a misplaced twinge of pride. That was the way he’d always addressed his staff.

“The reason any records that existed on us in Resembool were so messed-up was to protect us and our mother,” Edward said, his voice serious. “Incompetence covers a multitude of sins. Our mother, Trisha Elric, was Ishvalan.”

The whole office was perfectly still for a long moment, uncomprehending.

“We don’t look Ishvalan,” Edward said quietly. “Granny said that we should be thankful, that it kept us safe. Doesn’t stop us regretting everything we ever lost…” He bowed his head, swallowing, acting much older than fifteen. “Especially mom.”

“I thought you said—” Fuery began, hesitantly.

“Aerugonian flu… She died at the end of the third year of fighting. She escaped the massacre only to die of the contagion.” Edward blinked rapidly, sniffing. He squared his shoulders, straightened up. “We’re going to be working with you for the foreseeable future. It’s better that you know now.”

“Edward,” Hawkeye murmured, watching him with eyes that never wavered—Roy had always envied her for that. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry. Revenge isn’t something mom would have wanted. She was too good and… and we didn’t deserve her.” Edward scrubbed his left hand viciously across his face. “Right now I just want to get Al’s body back, and then, maybe… I want to make a world where this won’t ever happen again.” Hawkeye glanced at Roy, raised her eyebrows. And Edward might not talk about himself, not ever—but he didn’t have a deceitful bone in his body.

“You’re definitely in the right place for that,” Hawkeye said.

* * *

 

Fuery had brought everyone sandwiches—the cafeteria could not be relied on not to squash the bread, wilt the lettuce and shred the meat—so they decided to work through lunch. Mustang stared at Edward, who had stolen half the books from the shelf in his office and was lying on the floor surrounded by piles of notes in his terrible, cramped handwriting. Edward hadn’t bothered to move from his spot to eat lunch. He tapped the pen against the page, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“You know, I can just have them add a desk for you to the front office,” Roy remarked.

“I’m not here often enough to need one,” Edward mumbled through a mouthful of bread and turkey.

“You shouldn’t lie on the floor—it’s bad for your spine.”

“I’m fifteen. I’m too young for back pain.”

“I know you really took the ‘live like you’re going to die tomorrow’ thing to heart, Fullmetal, but do your future self a favor and try using a chair.”

Edward ignored him, turning a page and kicking his feet slowly in midair, for all the world as if he was reading a picture book and not Romellus’ “Theories of Advanced Metallurgy.” The younger alchemist had clearly already forgotten Mustang was even in the room. Mustang went back to his paperwork, but his mind kept straying to charred roofs and wind-shifted sand.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, the words spilling out without conscious volition. Edward looked up, sharply, eyes narrowed.

“What for?”

Two words to two words—exposing in less than a second the sheer inadequacy of the apology.

“You should hate me.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “You may be my commanding officer, but you don’t get to dictate my likes and dislikes, thanks very much.”

Did Edward just imply that he _liked_ Roy?

Never mind.

“I used to hate you,” Edward said quietly. “Maybe you don’t deserve forgiveness. And even if you did, I don’t know if I even know how. And maybe nothing can ever atone for this. But all we can do is live, and make a better world, and hope that everyone who comes after us never has to face this again.”

That was all.

Edward went back to his book.

Roy went back to his plans to change their country.

**Author's Note:**

> Antiochus (IV Epiphanes)--the ruler of the Seleucid Empire, a Hellenistic state that overran Israel and forbade Jewish religious practices. His rule was challenged by Judas Maccabeus, who restored the Temple and relit the sanctuary light, which miraculously burned for eight days despite only having oil for one. This miracle became a core element in the celebration of Hanukkah.
> 
> Once again, I am not Jewish, so please let me know of any inaccuracies or anything disrespectful and I will correct them.


End file.
